At six in the afternoon, school let out right on time.
Meng Bai stood to pack her bag. She glanced at Xu Zhou, who was packing hers too.
All day long, everyone’s chatter had revolved around Ye Hong, circling the same few details endlessly.
It gave Meng Bai a headache. Honestly, until the matter was resolved, rehashing the victim’s life over and over was just irritating.
What did all that talk accomplish?
Nothing.
“Hey, Li Yue, got an extra math test paper?” Xu Zhou rarely struck up a conversation.
Li Yue blinked. “Oh, yeah, they printed a few extras.” She handed one over.
Xu Zhou took it with a thanks, slung her bag over her shoulder, and headed out.
Just a little moment—no one paid it any mind.
Meng Bai hurriedly packed up and slipped away.
On the playground, things were different from usual. No one was playing basketball today, since one corner of the court bordered that flower bed, and everyone seemed to steer clear of the spot.
Meng Bai paused and looked toward the flower bed. The mangled branches had been replaced with fresh ones, erasing any trace of Ye Hong.
The setting sun poured down scorching light like vivid blood, bathing the entire court in fiery red.
Standing there, Meng Bai mulled over the question Miao Bai had posed yesterday:
What if it had been some other girl who’d gone missing?
Would she still go looking?
Even if she wasn’t as close as she was to Zhou An?
It was such a hard question. Saying yes was simple enough, but convincing herself for real? That was tough.
Bathed in the sunset, Meng Bai stared at her shadow, stretched long and slanted across the ground, every subtle contour etched with the awkwardness of seventeen or eighteen years.
She thought, if classmate Ye Hong hadn’t died, she’d probably be heading home right now after school, backpack slung over her shoulder as she passed through here. The playground wouldn’t be deserted either—likely full of clusters of classmates shooting hoops…
~~~
Meng Bai was starting to get used to not heading straight home after school.
Every time she pedaled her bike up to her own doorstep, she’d hit the brakes, glance at the door, then keep riding.
She’d grown fond of that little road—the one past Miao Bai’s house.
It was always quiet there, especially in the evenings, with hardly anyone around. At most, you’d spot a few grannies out watering the vegetable patches.
Knock knock knock.
“Miao Bai, it’s me.” Meng Bai stood at the gate, smoothing her white T-shirt.
No answer from Miao Bai.
“Let me in first—I can handle the rest.”
The iron gate rattled open the next instant. Meng Bai wheeled her bike up the steps and into the courtyard, latching the gate behind her.
In the evening, the courtyard felt dimmer than the world outside, thanks to the sprawling walnut tree that blocked out much of the light.
But night hadn’t fully fallen yet.
Meng Bai scanned the area. No sign of anyone.
“Where are you?”
Her eyes drifted to the door set into the courtyard wall—an ancient star lattice gate that had never once swung open.
Meng Bai knew Miao Bai lived beyond it, but she never dared ask about it. Just being allowed into the courtyard felt like a big step.
Still no reply, so Meng Bai ventured, “You aren’t invisible right now, are you?”
“Mm-hmm.”
“!!! ” Meng Bai startled, whipping around in a full circle. “I heard your voice—where are you?!”
“To your left.”
Meng Bai peered left. Nothing but the stone wall.
“Ah, I can’t see you.”
“That’s normal.”
“Oh—we have to wait for full dark, then.” Meng Bai glanced skyward; the light was fading, and it’d be properly night in about half an hour.
Standing around in the yard like this felt pretty ridiculous, though.
So she started chatting to fill the time. “What are you up to?”
“Before you got here, I was planning to plant some rose bushes.”
Meng Bai checked the corner by the wall—sure enough, a hoe leaned there.
“And now?”
“Not anymore.”
“So you’re just… standing there like me?”
“Mm-hmm.”
“It’s fine—go ahead and plant. I’m not scared.”
“Really not scared?”
Meng Bai heard footsteps—Miao Bai’s, no doubt.
It was incredible. Even invisible, she could still hear her voice, her steps. Did that mean… she could actually touch her?
“I’m really not! Go for it~”
No sooner had she spoken than the hoe by the wall stirred into motion. Anyone who believed strictly in the material world would have had their faith shaken by the sight.
The hoe dug into the earth on its own—floating in midair, no less, just as if an unseen hand gripped it tight.
It wasn’t just like that. It was exactly that.
Meng Bai’s heart thumped wildly. “Miao Bai, ever since I met you, everything about you has felt so magical.”
“What’s so magical about it?” Miao Bai paused, then added, “That day you crashed your bike right at my doorstep, I was standing right next to you.”
“Huh??” Meng Bai floundered. “You were?”
“I heard you call me Lunatic.”
“Uh…” Heat flooded her cheeks as she scrambled for an excuse. “That’s not—”
“And I heard your friend say I bash people with walnuts.”
It only made Meng Bai more mortified. “No, no—Zhou An wasn’t badmouthing you. She just heard the rumors.”
“So the part about me being an old hag came straight from you, then?” Miao Bai’s voice floated lightly, but without a face or eyes to read, it was impossible to gauge her.
Meng Bai squirmed.
“You’re not an old hag—not at all. It was just gossip. Zhou An and I never bought it.”
And she truly hadn’t, not from the very beginning.
Maybe Miao Bai was just teasing her. In the next moment, laughter rang out—Miao Bai’s, light and lovely. It made Meng Bai think, unbidden, of the dream she’d had last night.
“Not an old hag, then. So what am I?”
“You’re Miao Bai.” A smile lit Meng Bai’s face as she took a couple steps toward the sound, halting just a few paces from the hovering hoe. “Miao Bai… can I touch you?”
Like a kid burning with curiosity about the world.
Everything about Miao Bai was wondrous, after all.
“You’ll have to try it yourself and find out.”
She’d said yes.
She had to have.
Meng Bai reached out and grasped at the air, her hand closing on nothing. She took another step forward and waved her palm lightly through the empty space. Suddenly, she encountered resistance. Her fingers traced upward along it until they came to a stop.
A chill seeped into her palm, the stark opposite of the warmth from last night’s dream.
Miao Bai was cold—always so cold. Her skin felt like the bite of a summer downpour.
“Miao Bai, I can touch you,” Meng Bai murmured. Through the thin layer of gauze, her fingers brushed gently. She had no idea exactly where on Miao Bai she was touching, but based on the height, it had to be somewhere above the neck.
Was it Miao Bai’s face?
Meng Bai suddenly had no desire to pull her hand away. Her fingertip stroked softly within the limited range, and soon enough, she had her answer.
It was Miao Bai’s face.
Beneath the veil lay a smoothly contoured jawline. Meng Bai figured her hand must be resting somewhere between Miao Bai’s neck and cheek.
In that instant, her fingers grew scorching hot. Meng Bai yanked her hand back, embarrassment flooding her. She could feel her cheeks burning.
“You touched me?” Miao Bai asked.
“Yeah.”
“What does it feel like?”
“Very cool.” Meng Bai shifted uneasily, scuffing her toes against the ground. “And young, too.”
“You can tell I’m young even through the veil?”
Meng Bai answered honestly. “The veil’s really thin, and your skin isn’t wrinkly at all.”
Miao Bai laughed again. She seemed to be in high spirits today—twice in the span of just a few minutes—which set Meng Bai’s heart fluttering in response.
For the first time, the dusk felt unbearably long. She wanted night to fall so she could see the look in Miao Bai’s eyes when she smiled.
“Miao Bai.”
“Hm?”
“Last night, I went to Zhou An’s home with a guy and found some things. I want to tell you about it.”
“Go ahead.”
And so Meng Bai recounted the entire tale of breaking into Carpenter Zhou’s home the night before, sparing no detail—not the items in the attic, nor Carpenter Zhou’s words. She laid it all out.
Miao Bai listened in silence.
Meng Bai assumed she was absorbing every word.
As she spoke, the sky gradually darkened, and that figure slowly materialized before her eyes.
Miao Bai. The black-clad Miao Bai.
Meng Bai paused for a moment, then added, “I always feel more at ease when I can see you.”
Miao Bai’s tone remained even. “You haven’t finished telling me what happened.”
“Oh.” Meng Bai scratched her head, then shook it. “No, I have. That’s everything.”
“So you’re wondering whether you should call the police, right?”
Excitement sparkled in Meng Bai’s eyes as she nodded vigorously. “You totally get me!”
She hadn’t even mentioned the police, yet Miao Bai had zeroed right in on it. She was incredible.
“Don’t.”
“Don’t?” Meng Bai had been sure the answer would be to report it. “Why not?”
“Meng Bai.” Miao Bai glanced at her. “There’s a word called ‘timing.’ I’m not sure you grasp what it means, but the same event, the same choice—it can lead to entirely different outcomes depending on when you act.”
Meng Bai nodded, half understanding, and offered her own interpretation. “So you’re saying I should wait a while and call the police later?”
Miao Bai inclined her head. “Something like that.”
Enlightenment dawned on Meng Bai. Miao Bai was telling her to bide her time.
“But I don’t know when the right moment is.”
“Not now, in any case.”
Meng Bai mulled it over and decided it made sense. “Okay. I’ll follow your lead.”
“So I take it your friend is holed up somewhere.”
“But where? Ten days without food or water.” Meng Bai floated the idea of searching farther up the mountain, though truth be told, she didn’t dare go alone into the pitch-black night. “I’d like someone to come with me.”
The hint couldn’t have been clearer.
Miao Bai said nothing, but Meng Bai kept her gaze fixed on her.
Two seconds ticked by, and then she relented.
“Fine. I’ll go with you.”
